“She couldn’t if she wanted. She wouldn’t be allowed. You and I and Kavelin have earned their special attention. Someday they’ll come again.”

“Look at that one! Almost like a comet for a second.”

“Uhm.” Musingly, the wizard continued, “It should be a while coming. They’ve had some bad years, and they’re staring trouble in the eye in Matayanga. They haven’t fully pacified the territories they occupied during the war. Right now they’re hopping like the one-legged whore the day the fleet came in.”

Bragi chuckled and looked the wizard askance. That was not a Varthlokkur figure of speech. “If they’ll give me a decade, or even another year, I’ll be grateful. I’ll take it and be happy because I don’t think we can turn them back again. I think having Mist in charge might set the day of reckoning back a little, and soften the blow when it falls.”

“It’s your choice. Just don’t forget O Shing.”

“O Shing?” O Shing was the prince who had overthrown Mist and driven her out of the empire, only to be overthrown himself.

“He didn’t want to come west. He fought it all the way. And that’s why he’s no longer with us.”

“I know. But the people who pushed him out are gone now too. Holy…! Did you see the size of that one? All right. I’ll take a few days to poke around and to think about it. Then I’ll get Gjerdrum and you and a couple others together and we’ll decide whether we should help her. And if we do, how visible our help should be.”

“It’s your choice, as I say, but you’re just asking for grief if you do it. You have problems enough at home. Problems more deserving of your attention. Also, watch who you include in your ‘we.’ I have no intention of getting involved with the Dread Empire again. Unless they come after me first.”

“Pardon me for jumping to conclusions. I thought it might be a way for you to make contacts who could check out your Ethrian questions for you.”

The wizard stiffened. He turned slowly, gazed at the King. After a moment, he nodded and said, “Maybe it would, at that.”

Three men had gathered in Mist’s library. Two leaned over her silver divining bowl. Her bowl did not contain the common water. She was wealthy. She could afford the far more expensive and reliable quicksilver coveted by every seer.

Aral Dantice shifted restlessly, nervous as a youth on the brink of losing his virginity. Mist watched him as closely as she did her bowl. She had made a mistake, telling him how much the King suspected. He had the Michael Trebilcock shakes. If this went the wrong way, he might crack… She did not want to think about that. Heroic measures might be required.